


cannon fire

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Attempted Murder, Blood, M/M, Murder, its a hunger games au bro you know what to do, we live in a district....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 00:03:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: If anyone deserved to win, it was Luke.





	cannon fire

**Author's Note:**

> sweeties I am SO FUCKING SORRY
> 
> but asagao august day 28 hunger games au ahaha... I wrote this really fast for how long it is fdhjgdf

Ian knew this was it.

** **

It was only, _ what, _ five days since the games had started, and on the night before it began, unable to sleep and staring at the top of this bunk, he had never even considered the _ possibility _ that he might survive. Even day two seemed like a long shot, let alone the very end.

** **

He saw it all so vividly, that last sleepless night. He saw himself taking one step into the cornucopia and finding only a hand through his hair, slamming his face into the pavement, or maybe a knife to his throat, a harpoon through his chest. Once he had found a solution that wouldn't kill him within the first five minutes, running away, the possibilities for death only got worse.

** **

He could barely manage running for more than, _ what, _ ten minutes? He could be easily chased and killed, or subtly tracked and caught off guard. Maybe the other tributes would find him to be a pathetic waste of time who could reliably get himself killed off on his own. That was fine by him. But poison berries, tall cliffs, rising rivers, even wild animals; maybe he'd end up wishing he had been killed right off the bat. Starvation, dying of thirst, sleep deprivation driving him crazy; it wasn't all that fun to think about.

** **

Couldn't make him stop, though.

** **

Maybe he had underestimated himself, though, given the fact that he had survived this long. His own survival instinct was surprisingly strong; he had only unwillingly collapsed once or twice, he constantly kept an eye over his shoulder, which was a massive benefit, and he hadn't eaten any poison berries or fallen out of any trees; maybe he had a knack for survivalism.

** **

Maybe it was just sheer, unfair, dumb luck.

** **

Maybe it was Luke.

** **

The boy from district seven; he had caught Ian's eye almost instantly, in the training area. Ian had been over by the wildlife identification station, confusing blueberries and sweet amber for the seventh time, and Luke was practicing some close combat. The girl he was sparring with, _ pink hair, had to be from a richer district, _ looked honestly on the verge of tears. She looked tiny compared to him, shaking in every limb, as if she was paralyzed and honestly fearful for her life, even in a practice fight with fragile wooden sticks.

** **

Luke seemed dead set on comforting her, moving at a snail's pace with their movements, one that Ian doubted he would have been able to deal with. There was a ridiculous, unreasonable amount of _ kindness _ etched into his face, a smile that would have been infectious under any other circumstance.

** **

Well, it was for Ian.

** **

Luke had met that girl the day of, Ian had later found out. They had no prior involvement, no reason for Luke to give a shit about her feelings, her preparation, her sense of hope; and in a place like this, Ian couldn't even be sure if Luke was a master manipulator, or if he honestly cared as much as he did. If he cared more for his bloodthirsty, selfish fellow tributes than he did for himself.

** **

Ian had a hunch that it was the latter, even that first day. When they sort-of finished their agonizingly long-running sparring match, and the girl looked at least kind of stable, they parted ways.

** **

And like a switch being flipped, Ian watched the strength drain from Luke's body. The energetic, bouncy posture he had kept up for so long simply fell apart, almost slouching. His smile, warm and quite literally _ perfect _ simply disappeared, the kindness in his eyes transforming into utter despair; at best, emptiness. 

** **

Ian really wished Luke would have picked any other time to do that to him, because he ended up with a 30% on the quiz he was taking. 

** **

As the days ticked by, approaching the games, Ian had managed to get closer to Luke and found out that his enthusiasm, empathy, all around _ adorableness _ never faded. Only when nobody was around, so it would seem, and Ian wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

** **

They were rarely separated, though. That was the least Ian could do for him. 

** **

Luke, he learned all about Luke. Luke Sizemore, seventeen years old, district seven. He was a rising musician, gaining fame for his singing, then finding love for and building up a new image around rapping. He didn't tell Ian much about the specifics of his career, other than that it was so much harder than he made it out to be, even with the passion he proclaimed.

** **

He practically disappeared for a couple months. He didn't tell Ian why, literally citing it as "reasons", but Ian had another hunch that he knew why. 

** **

Then came the day of the reaping, and out of the blue, Luke volunteered.

** **

Luke didn't know the boy whose name was called, apparently one Chad Bergström, or at least, he didn't claim to. When Ian asked why Luke volunteered, he said he didn't know.

** **

Ian still had his hunch, and it brought him to a sort of conclusion, or at least a theory. Luke Sizemore, the boy with the prettiest smile Ian had ever seen, who was so ridiculously friendly, kind, and patient to his fellow tributes, with more empathy for others than he had for himself, with the voice of a _ God damn angel _ and seemingly, with the total incapacity to kill.

** **

He didn't belong here. He deserved so, so much better. If the Capitol could see him now, see the way he smiled and laughed in the face of a countdown to his almost certain death, the way he shattered when alone and with nobody to be strong for; if they had any shred of empathy or moral decency left, they'd call off the games right _ now. _

** **

They didn't, though.

** **

The days kept counting down, from five, to four, _ to three to two to one. _ Luke tried not to let it get him down, but Ian knew he didn't get much sleep at night.

** **

Neither did Ian, so he couldn't really judge. But he did wish Luke would come out of his room at night, just so they wouldn't both be stuck, alone with the girls from their respective districts who couldn't give less of a shit about them. 

** **

He counted the hours, the night before it all began. Twelve, ten, eight, six, four, two. During all that time, his thoughts rarely slowed, and virtually _ never _ were without the concept of Luke.

** **

He wondered a lot about if Luke would die, or if he would outlive Ian. If he met with the pink haired girl, one on one in an open field, if he could even bring himself to kill her, even if it was putting her out of her misery. Even if she had pulled herself together and was now hungrier for blood than any other tribute. Would he?

** **

Ian really, _ really _ didn't like thinking about Luke dying. Still, couldn't make him stop.

** **

He could see it all just as graphically and presented in color as his own potential deaths. Luke taking one step into the cornucopia and finding a land mine, or having a spear wrestled out of his hands, immediately driven into his stomach. A hawk-like girl using the top of the display to gain leverage on him, scratching his eyes until he couldn't see, looping rope around his neck and yanking him to the floor by it, strangling him. Trying to make peace with another tribute, negotiate an agreement, and getting his pretty teeth knocked out.

** **

The concept upset Ian so much more than the thought of his own death. Luke deserved better. Maybe they all did, but at least they were just unlucky. Maybe it was Ian's fate to end up here, but it wasn't Luke's.

** **

If the argument could be made that any of them deserved to win, if any of them deserved to be there in the first place, it had to be Luke. The rising star, the relatively small figure yet so beloved, the young man of countless talents, with more empathy and patience than this world deserved, with a dazzling smile and what at least looked like the physical capability to fight, if not for how much he _ cared _. The boy who volunteered, taking the place of someone he had never even met, claiming he didn't know why he did it. The perfect tribute, their diamond from district seven, their best Panem-ian boy.

** **

The one, the one Ian fell in love with. If this was their fate, Ian was planning on having a little talk with God once he finally made his way up there.

** **

Two hours, one hour, thirty minutes, fifteen.

** **

Over breakfast, Luke told him that he loved him, and that he'd be with him every step of the way into and out of the arena, if Ian would let him. 

** **

The lights of the dining hall were harsh, bright white, but managed to light up Luke's face in a way that was so _ soft. _ He looked so _ tired, _ and yet so accepting of it.

** **

Ian kissed him, and his lips tasted like maple syrup and poison berries, a future that no matter what, they couldn't share.

** **

The eggs Ian got remained untouched. He cried into Luke's arms for the rest of the time they had together. He couldn't let himself look at Luke, _ no, Luke _ wouldn't let him, but from the frequent hiccups and the ragged movement of his chest, Ian knew he was crying too.

** **

At least, it was something off his bucket list, love. He didn't think he had much time, anyway, so he gladly accepted it. Even if it would make the games so much more painful. Even if, miraculously, one of them actually won and the burden of being the sole survivor would _ destroy _ them, in that one moment, it was worth it.

** **

Luke's arms were warm, gentle, sweet. Like if Luke could wrap his smile around Ian, his love. If only for a moment.

** **

Ten, five, three, two, one.

** **

_ Showtime. _

** **

Luke didn't lie. The second that the countdown hit zero, that the cannon fire rang through the air, he ran to Ian, grabbing his hand and absolutely _ booking it _ towards the forest. Ian could barely keep up with him, nearly tripping on the rocky soil a solid three times, but somehow, neither of them died within the first five minutes.

** **

They did so much better than Ian could have ever hoped for, maybe even better than he wanted them to do.

** **

They seldom slowed down. They stopped to rest, to cook, in any nook or cranny that could be reasonably certified as "safe", but they never slowed down. He loved Luke almost _ aggressively _, all the while, and for some reason that Ian couldn't really understand, Luke loved him too. 

** **

Luke nearly broke Ian's hand from holding it so tightly. They both had a couple twisted ankle scares from running. They both refused to eat before the other could, which wasn't the most convenient thing in such a time sensitive circumstance. They kissed more than most couples like them reasonably would, even though Ian knew that every kiss was pulling that rope around his neck just a bit tighter each time. Not to say that he didn't enjoy it, but it was for the audience above all.

** **

The audience, and the graciously sponsored supplies they received as payment for their overt affection and likely, Luke's general reputation, kept them alive. Food, water, a couple weapons, a fire starter. Ian already knew that Luke was basically the only thing keeping him alive this long, but the extra supplies were a pretty sweet perk.

** **

Every other moment, Ian almost never took his eyes off their surroundings. If only to look at Luke, appreciate how pretty he was, even sweaty and exhausted and dirt stained, while they were both still alive. 

** **

Luckily for them both; if Luke had any flaw, it was that he could be a bit oblivious. But the first few skirmishes were avoided; Luke was able to scare off another couple of boys by throwing some knives, generously gifted by their sponsors, and Ian was able to point out the tributes who hid in the trees and had tried to track them, who knew they wouldn't stand a chance when they were both on high alert.

** **

Ian still didn't understand how Luke scared off that pair of _ honestly, scary _ looking kids by throwing some knives. Then, it would seem, he would just be out of knives.

** **

Luke laughed when he brought that up, and it sent a thousand daggers plunging into Ian's heart.

** **

The sense of safety they held for the moment wouldn't last forever, they both knew. During the night, they remained hidden, sleeping in shifts and hardly sleeping at all.

** **

In the morning, there were... 

** **

Actually, Ian forgot how many cannon shots there were. Five? Six? Something like that, but he got distracted when the face of the pink haired girl lit up the sky. _ Hana, _apparently.

** **

Ian realized that his hypothetical duel between her and Luke was never going to happen, and he still didn't know if Luke could bring himself to _ honestly fight, _ let alone _ kill. _

** **

As it turned out, Luke _ could_, another thing Ian wasn't quite sure how to feel about. 

** **

Their first skirmish that turned into a real fight was with a boy that looked about as young as the age bracket would let anyone enter as, and a girl that somewhat reminded Ian of a snake. They coincidentally crossed paths near their hideout, and it just so happened to get _ violent. _ The boy looked _ what, _ twelve or thirteen, but he was fast and _ vicious. _ The girl didn't care about his age, it would seem, or didn't consider him to be a threat at all.

** **

Ian learned their names the following morning; Jimmy, and Mimi.

** **

Jimmy went for Mimi, thankfully, but Mimi went straight for Ian, and looked like she was _ eager, excited _ to kill them all, like she could have easily killed Ian if not for Luke, and if not for the impatient gremlin clawing at her side, just _ begging _ to be killed. 

** **

Somehow, Jimmy had found some knives, too. Mimi seemed to prefer hand to hand. Ian can still remember the plays as they happened; Mimi approached him, smirking, Luke and Jimmy still on the sidelines. She broke into a run, and Ian knew he couldn't escape, throwing his hands up to defend himself. She dug her nails into Ian's wrist, finding him weak and honestly _ flimsy, _ easily throwing him off his balance and to the ground. She only got a couple kicks in before Jimmy got in her way, but _ fuck, _ they hurt. 

** **

Jimmy snuck up on her, almost _ squealing _ as he captured her and stabbed a knife into her side, her shriek like that of a bird's, shot down. Even with a hole in her side, she was still able to overtake Jimmy, pulling the knife from his grasp and slashing his chest as she threw him to the ground. Ian had tried to get up at that point, but a gentle reminder came in the form of a kick to the chest, leaving him gasping and unable to move, listening passively to the _ squelch _ of a knife being buried in one's body, of blood being spilled, to the scream that struck raw terror into his heart.

** **

He didn't know exactly what Luke was doing during this time. Probably panicking and reevaluating his entire moral code; Ian didn't blame him.

** **

But the cannon shot from afar brought him back to reality, with a knife held menacingly over his chest and the overwhelming sense that _ well, this was it. _

** **

Finally, Luke came to his rescue, wrestling the knife away from her and pinning her to the ground.

** **

At the very end, that's where Ian's memory of each play fails him. He was in pain, the sight of Luke coming to his rescue was a whole _ rush _ of emotions and chemicals, and he was barely even able to process the second cannon shot.

** **

It was only when Luke was helping him up, comforting him and asking if he was okay, that he realized Mimi was dead.

** **

He was too scared to ask Luke what the _ fuck _ he even did. In a way, he was just happy that they were both alive and relatively okay, even that Luke was capable of surviving. It was so ridiculously wrong that Luke even _ had _ to do this, but at least it meant he had a shot at winning.

** **

All he really knew was that Luke didn't stab her, like Ian thought he might have. Maybe he hit her head too hard on the rocky soil, or maybe he pinned her by the throat and forgot to stop squeezing _ so hard. _ Maybe that stab wound caught up to her _ way _ quicker than _ anyone _ thought it would. Ian didn't have time to stress over it.

** **

Luke cried over it for a solid three hours after that, so he never thought to really push it.

** **

The hours ticked by, each one a bit luckier. They received more supplies from their sponsors, even a bit of cake that they got to share. They found a body while they were on the move, a boy who Ian had seen training relentlessly with two others before the games started, who seemed to have died of thirst, or something like that. Ian wasn't quite sure what happened to his two friends, the ones with brown and black hair, he remembered, but he had a feeling that they were probably dead. They did find a harpoon with him though, which would have been _ fucking sick _ if not for how utterly crushing its purpose in this game was, and if not for the dried blood still staining the metal.

** **

They didn't end up taking the harpoon. Ian still felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

** **

The following skirmishes still got brutal, but at least they weren't any worse than their first. Luke got much faster at jumping into action, Ian got a bit less useless eventually, and their kills, one more to each, were... as _ merciful _ as they could get.

** **

Luke cut the throat of a boy who looked ready to get it over with; Luke might have been the only one ever able to reach his throat, because _ Jesus, _ he was tall. Ian pushed his presumed partner off a cliff.

** **

It probably should have been incredibly worrying just how resigned they were to their fates; the one Ian killed, the sky informing him later that his name was Jeff, was the only one who honestly tried to fight. The other, Austin, reminded Ian of the pink haired girl; frozen.

** **

But who would they be to ask for anything else? This was the game they had to play, and they had all made their choices.

** **

The game came to a sort of finale on the fifth day. It was early in the morning, the cornucopia was refilled, and the five of them that remained all decided to just get it over with and come. 

** **

Ian didn't figure out their names until a long, long time after. The stoic and _ insanely _ buff for a seventeen year old that Ian had called during the training period as the sure winner, Shane. The boy that clung to him as well, Jirard, similarly large and intimidating, but somewhat reminiscent of Luke in that he just seemed... nice. Like he didn't belong here, if anyone did. And the solo killer, the audience-appointed dark horse of the games, a girl with fiery red hair that didn't seem all that practical, but had definitely created an image for herself, Mai.

** **

She was a friend of the pink haired girl, Ian recalled. _ Shame. _

** **

They had all been in this game for far too long, lost far too much. There was nothing they could really do but fight. The plays were a lot muddier for Ian, given the increase in players and the high strung adrenaline, even more than when Mimi almost killed him. 

** **

But he remembered watching Mai run straight for Jirard, and he _ launched _ her directly into the cornucopia, like she weighed nothing. Maybe not the best direction to pick, because she picked up a harpoon that she had narrowly avoided falling on, and _ holy shit _ if that image didn't scare the shit out of him. 

** **

He remembered Luke trying to say something to Shane too, he forgot what, and Shane just kept _ advancing, _ like Mimi but ten times physically scarier. Scarier, because it was Luke, and _ what the fuck, what was he supposed to do? _

** **

He went for the cornucopia. He didn't have much of a choice. And maybe he was a little too panicked to really process what he was seeing, additionally burdened with a snarl from Mai as if promising to get back to him later that sent his heart jumping up into his throat, but he did notice that it smelled... _ weirdly _ like gasoline.

** **

His memory felt like some kind of fucked up renaissance painting in motion; warped and distorted. Mai went for Jirard with the harpoon; either she missed, or it didn't slow him down much at all. Neither option seemed particularly less likely. Jirard happened to have a sword, and they set off with the clanging of metal, parrying each others strikes and leaving Luke _ alone _ to deal with Shane. Neither had been hit yet, but Shane had been chasing Luke for an uncomfortably long time, and Ian couldn't let _ this _ happen. He couldn't let Luke get hurt. He couldn't let Luke die, least of all. 

** **

Luke might have thrown a couple punches, Ian couldn't really remember. But he remembered hearing Jirard grunt, the _ squelch _ that was so familiar and so _ damning _ at this point-

** **

The shot of a cannon.

** **

And he remembered looking over, seeing the look in Shane's eyes shift from smugly threatening to _ raw wrath. _ He spared his partner no more than a look in his direction, but he knew, _ oh God, he knew. _

** **

And if Ian didn't do something, Luke was going to die for it. 

** **

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no, no no no no- _

** **

Mai saw him. Remembered him. Remembered that if she was going to win, he was going to have to die some time or another, and there was no time like the present. As she readied her harpoon, Ian started backing into the cornucopia, tripping on the steps and the empty, worthless bags, his heart pounding in his ears, making it impossible to hear anything else. 

** **

He collided with another body. Luke had done the same. 

** **

_ Oh, thank God. _

** **

_ … _

** **

_ Wait. _

** **

_ No no no no- _

** **

Mai surged forward with her harpoon, but suddenly, it wasn't aiming for _ Ian. _ Ian would have fallen off the whole damn thing if Luke pushed him any harder to get out of the way, but _ fuck, no, he couldn't- _

** **

Luke didn't scream, like Ian thought he would. Such a use of his voice would be a _ fucking abomination. _ All he could do was gasp, and fall, and _ fuck, no, please- _

** **

Ian was nowhere near strong enough for this, and was probably hurting Luke in the process of getting him away, but _ fuck, no, he couldn't just leave him in the center. _

** **

Mai graciously decided to ignore them once again, and the blind rage in Shane's eyes didn't discriminate. Ian didn't even have time to think about how Shane grabbed Mai's harpoon with his _ bare fucking hands, _ how they all had a bit of Luke's blood on them by now and _ fuck, no, this couldn't be happening- _

** **

Luke whined, gasping and struggling for air, protesting something that he couldn't quite communicate as Ian dragged him as far away as he could. Luke tried to say something to him, Ian was pretty sure, but he couldn't listen. He looked like he was absolutely going to cry, which Ian couldn't blame him for, but all it did for Ian was propel his vengeance.

** **

Ian _ had _ to do something now. How long would Shane and Mai even keep each other distracted? Who would win, or would they both turn against them? They couldn't do this to Luke and live for it, win for it. _ Fuck no. _

** **

He whispered something like _ "it's okay" _ to Luke before rummaging through his pockets as gently as he could. The sounds Luke was making were _ heartbreaking_, but Ian had no other choice.

** **

With shaking hands, he pulled out the fire starter given to them by one of their sponsors, one they had never made full use of.

** **

With a shuddering breath that he would have liked to consider _ final, _ and with a scream like a _ banshee, _ he threw the lit fire starter into the cornucopia.

** **

The cornucopia burst into flame, igniting the dueling pair along with it, and the burst of _ heat _ felt like the shot of a cannon. 

** **

_ That _ was still to come. He promptly ignored their burning bodies, turning back to care for Luke, letting the two _ actual _ cannon shots fade into the background, with the crackling of the flames. 

** **

And all that brought him here. This was it.

** **

They were the last two alive; maybe not for long, but for now, and against all odds. And Ian fucking hated himself for not finding a way to prevent _ this, _ but he couldn't show it to Luke. All he could do was make him as comfortable as he possibly could, let Luke's hands take his own in a death grip just as painful as always, but he _ didn't fucking care _ because it was what Luke _ needed. _

** **

Luke smiled at him. It was pained, strained, and his mouth was filled with blood, but _ God, _ if it didn't make Ian love him. And after a rushed, panicked, blurry sequence of hopeless comforts and empty promises that _ it was going to be okay, _ Luke asked him what he would have done if it was just them two, at the very end, if they had to make the choice.

** **

Ian told him that he didn't know. 

** **

Luke found that funny, apparently, weak chuckling utterly _ ravaging _ his chest, nearly choking on the blood in his mouth. Maybe Ian would have laughed too if he had more of a grip on himself, because with every second that ticked by, he became just a bit more aware that _ this was it, this was the end, he's going to die and he's going to win all alone- _

** **

"Thank God for... what's-her-face, then," Luke said, slurred and wet with blood, practically sending them both into hysterics. 

** **

Ian brought Luke's hands to his lips, kissing his knuckles, and it made Luke laugh and choke on his own blood again, which was all Ian could really do for him. He couldn't fathom kissing him on the lips again, he couldn't fathom moving _ at all _ right now, but he could already taste the cold iron that Luke would leave in his mouth and it made him want to _ vomit. _

** **

He went out laughing, that was the least Ian could do for him. Maybe they were both crying too, but that had to be a given. This was it, no point in wishing they could change it, and at least Luke seemed... happy.

** **

Ian knew _ exactly _ how he felt about that, it made him sick to his stomach, made him want to die and wish, _ so fucking desperately, _ that he had been in front of Luke when Mai surged forward. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. Luke didn't deserve this, and it broke his heart that Luke was so willing to settle, that he didn't see that _ he _ was the one that should have lived, _ not- _

** **

When Ian finally came around, Luke wasn't crying anymore. Wasn't seeing, wasn't speaking or laughing, wasn't choking, wasn't bleeding. The blood gushing from his stomach had stagnated.

** **

One last cannon shot, then fireworks.

** **

Ian knew this was it, and it was.

**Author's Note:**

> hate when this happens to me lol


End file.
